


And By A Child

by pictureswithboxes



Series: Another One [2]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 08:38:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5702044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pictureswithboxes/pseuds/pictureswithboxes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harold offers to babysit for Root and Shaw</p>
            </blockquote>





	And By A Child

“Okay, listen closely, Sammy.” Root said as she walked Sam into Harold’s apartment. “Maman and I are gonna be gone for tonight and a little bit of tomorrow. You need to be on your best behavior for Uncle Harry. Can you do that?”

“Yeah.” Sam nodded once, looking completely serious. 

“That means no drawing on the walls,” Root continued, as she set Sam’s backpack down by the door. “No pulling the puppy’s tail-”

“Bear’s a dog.” Sam corrected pointedly.

“Yes, Bear is a dog.” Root said with a small smile. “And no pulling Bear’s tail. We also don’t play Uncle Harry’s books. That means no ripping, no tearing, no drawing on the pages.”

“Lot of rules.” Sam grumbled as Harold entered the living room. 

“Rules are to keep you and I happy, Sam.” He said, smiling at Sam. “And how are you today?”

“I’m three.” Sam held up three fingers. 

Harold furrowed his brow and looked at Root, who shrugged. “He thinks you’re asking how old he is.”

“Oh.” Harold nodded. “Well, that’s very old, Sam.”

“Yah.” Sam said, walking over to where Bear was sleeping on the floor and plopping down beside him. “Hi, Bear.”

“Okay, so he goes to bed at seven thirty, or eight, depending on how he’s acting.” Root said quickly, while Sam was distracted. “He thinks his bedtime is seven, so you have to tell him when it’s seven, then he’ll try to negotiate. That’s good, we need him to use words to solve problems instead of throwing a tantrum. He can only play his games for half an hour at a time, but not exceeding two hours total. He will try to swindle you into letting him play for longer, but Sameen is very adamant about limiting his time. Just don’t let him trick you.”

“How would a three year old trick me?”

“My son is smart, Harry. He has an ungodly amount of fruit snacks in his backpack, it’s because he likes to share. He uses the potty, so no diapers. But he does wear a pull up at night. I packed him three outfits for tomorrow, so just let him choose one.” Root paused. “Are you sure you don’t want to just stay at our place?” 

“No thank you, Miss Groves.” Harold replied calmly. “Does he still sleep with the stuffed lion?”

“Yeah.” Root said, looking over to where Sam was sitting. He was petting Bear’s tummy. “Honestly, it’s the best gift Lionel ever gave.”

“Is that all?”

“Make sure he eats his dinner.” Root said. “He has this weird habit of only eating half the food, like the plate is split in half. What even is that?”

“Your child is odd, have you met his mothers?” Harold smiled a little. “Now go, before I change my mind.”

“Okay.” Root grinned, heading over to Sam. “Buh-bye, Sammy. I love you.” She pressed a kiss to the top of his head. 

“Luh you.” Sam said, not looking up from Bear. “I luh Bear, too.”

“I’ll miss you.” 

“Kay.”

Root stood up and looked at Harold, who was poorly containing his grin. “Buh-bye, Sammy.” She said, walking to the door. 

“Bye.” Sam called as Root left the room. 

“That wasn’t very nice, Sam.” Harold said, frowning a little. 

Sam ignored him and stood up, running to his backpack and bringing it to where Harold stood. “Pay! Hot wheels!”

Sam dumped out his bag, surprising Harold at the sheer amount of toy cars that Root and Shaw had managed to stuff into one bag. It was an avalanche of plastic and metal, that made both Harold and Bear jump at the noise. With a wide grin, Sam sat down in front of the pile and looked expectantly at Harold. 

“Pay with hot wheels.” Sam commanded, picking up a couple cars. “How many?”

Harold quickly counted them in his head. “There are fifty-seven.”

“How many?” Sam grabbing a green car and putting it in behind the pile. “One.”

Harold looked at the little boy before grabbing another car and putting it next to the first. “Two.”

They counted cars for a long time, nearly an hour, longer than counting toy cars should ever take. Every time they finished counting, Sam produced more cars from his backpack. How big was that thing anyway? Harold’s brow furrowed as he counted another twenty cars before Sam went to grab some more cars, only to let out a large sigh. 

“How many?” He asked, disappointed that he had ran out of cars. 

“Ninety-four.” Harold replied, looking at the unholy amount of cars. 

“Nine-y four.” Sam repeated, looking at the cars. “Nine-y four. Lots.”

“Yes, that is a lot.” Harold nodded, smiling a little. 

Sam stood up and started digging through his backpack, frowning when he opened the wrong pocket, only to find clothing. He quickly zipped the pocket up before shoving his tiny fist inside and pulling out four packs of fruit snacks. Sam gave Harold a bright smiled and tore one of them open.

“Candy.” He said, putting one in his mouth then handing one to Harold. “Godda share.”

“Thank you, Sam.” Harold popped the fruit snack into his mouth. “You can have the rest.”

Sam’s face lit up like a Christmas tree before he shoved the entirety of the pouch into his mouth. Harold watched in mild disgust as Sam slowly chewed his food, it was moments like these that reminded him why he never had any children. They drooled... they drooled different colors. 

“One at a time, Sam.” Harold said, watching in horror as Sam spit the remaining fruit snacks into his hand and then started to pull apart the pieces and pop them into his mouth. “That is not what I had in mind.”

Harold sighed and shook his head, pulling out his cellphone. “I’m not doing this alone.”

* * *

“I don’t know why they didn’t just ask me first.” John said after he’d washed Sam’s hands and face. “You’re no good with kids. And Sam just likes me more than he likes you.”

“I resent that comment.” Harold grumbled as he and John watched as Sam played with his trucks. “I’m an excellent caretaker, and Sam loves me.”

“Well, we can see who Sam likes best.” John said, gesturing to Sam, who was now stacking his trucks. “Aren’t three year olds supposed to be super honest?”

“I suppose.” Harold shrugged as they stepped toward the little boy. “Though, he is Miss Groves and Miss Shaw’s child. We don’t know what he could possibly do to us.”

“Harold, stop being so paranoid, he’s three years old.” John rolled his eyes. “And what’s the worst that could happen? We get candy stuffed in our pockets?”

“He thinks fruit snacks are candy.” Harold mumbled, earning a bark of a laugh from John.

“And he thinks Doritos are cookies, he’ll figure it out eventually.” John shrugged, sitting down in front of Sam. “Hi, Sammy.”

“Hi.” Sam replied, not looking up from his toys.

“So, I have a question for you.” John said in a pleasant tone. 

“What?” Sam asked curiously. 

“Who do you like more, me?” John gestured to himself with a smile. “Or Harold?” John scrunched up his face and frowned. 

“What?” Sam repeated, looking confused. 

“Me or Harold?” John asked, earning a glare from Harold.

“Why?” 

“Curious.”

Sam nodded once and thought for a moment. “Line.” He said finally, with a wide smile.

“Line?” John frowned a little. “You mean Lionel?”

“Yah, Line.” Sam replied. “Line is best.”

“Why?” Harold asked, absolutely shocked.

“Prize.” Sam said simply. “Line has prizes.”

“Prizes?” John looked at Harold. 

“Prizes!” Sam repeated, throwing his hands in the air.

“Maybe he means presents.” Harold said, trying to ignore the feeling of dread that washed over him at the thought of not being a three year old’s favorite. 

“Of course the kid takes bribes.” John muttered, looking at Sam. “What kind of prizes?”

“Candy.” Sam shrugged, looking back to his cars. “Line is good.”

“And he’s better than me and Harold?”

“Yeah.”

John stood up and walked over to Harold. “Lionel is his favorite. I can’t believe Lionel is his favorite.”

“Sam is three years old, his favorite person is the last person to give him a gift.” Harold said, watching as Sam threw four of his cars into the air and made an explosion noise. “Look right now. He’s destroying as many cars as he can, not even thinking of the casualties.”

“Were you the kind of kid who thought of the casualties?” John asked, giving Harold a confused look. “And how are you not upset by this? We’re great, we’re fun, we have a dog. Kids should love us.”

“Why is this bothering you so much?” Harold sighed, he really didn’t like the idea of not being Sam’s favorite either. 

“It bothers me for the same reason it’d bother me if I weren’t Bear’s favorite.” John replied.

“Other than Miss Shaw?”

“I thought that was a given.”

“Honestly, I think you’re upset that Sam doesn’t like you best because you’re being petty.”

“And? He still likes me more than he likes you.”

“No he doesn’t!” Harold and John both frowned at the outburst, and Sam even looked up from his toys. 

“No yelling.” Sam said calmly. “We inside. Inside voices.”

“Your mothers have raised you well.” Harold mumbled, watching as Sam lost interest in his cars and pulled out his iPad before climbing onto the sofa.

“Games now.” Sam said, noticing Harold’s eyes on him. 

“Shouldn’t you pick up your toys first?” Harold asked in a stern tone.

“You’re never gonna be his favorite if you keep that up.” John mumbled, as Sam let out a large sigh and moved to hop off the sofa. “Don’t worry, Sammy. I’ll do it, you just play your game.”

“Kay.” Sam shrugged, looking back at his game. “Thanks, Jahn.”

“You’re welcome.” John replied, scooping the cars into Sam’s backpack. 

“You’re stooping to a new low, John.” Harold sighed, crossing his arms. “I should get started on dinner while he’s distracted.”

“Good plan.” John nodded.

It didn’t take Harold long to make enough hot dogs with macaroni and cheese to satisfy seven three year olds, though it did take nearly twice as long to get Sam off of his iPad and onto his booster seat so he could eat at the table. Harold and John watched as Sam ate exactly like Root had described, splitting the bowl right down the middle. Trying to feed the toddler more food proved to become one of the most difficult things that Harold had ever done, and he worked with Root on a daily basis. By the time Sam had eaten all of his food, both Harold and John were exhausted and Harold never wanted to see another bowl of macaroni and cheese.

“I had no idea how difficult it would be to feed a toddler.” Harold mumbled as he and John watched him play with his cars in the living room. 

“I don’t think other kids are like that.” John replied quietly. “This kid is not normal.”

“It’s probably his parentage.” Harold said. “Putting food in his mouth was just as difficult as taking food from Miss Shaw’s.”

“I really wanna buy him some candy for some reason.” John said after almost a minute.

“What he said about Lionel can’t still be getting to you.” Harold shook his head. 

“And what if it is?” 

“Then you’re petty, and you need to let it go. This child is three years old.”

“Do you think I should go to the store and get him some new cars? He’d like that, right?”

“He has enough cars.”

They spent the next couple of hours playing with Sam and watching his favorite Disney movie on the TV. During the villain song, Sam bounced along with the beat and would sneak up on Harold before lunging at his neck and attacking him, only to stop when the music ended. At some point, John started to play a game where he’d lift Sam over his head and walk swiftly around the living room, making him squeal with laughter before John would toss him onto the sofa, earning more laughter.

“Now who do you love best?” John asked with a wide grin. 

Sam was quiet for a moment before frowning. “Mama and Maman.” He said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Okay, that was just adorable.” John sighed. “Okay, Sam. Who do you like more? Me?” John pointed to himself. “Harold?” He pointed at Harold with a scowl. “Or Lionel?” 

“... Hmmm.” Sam thought for a moment before pointing at Harold. “Harld.” 

John clenched his jaw and Harold held in a laugh, glancing at the clock. It was seven at night, time to negotiate with a three year old. Harold sighed, he was sure that he would honestly understand Sam’s argument and let him stay up due to his own merit, rather than just let him stay up for trying. 

“Sam.” Harold said, ignoring the indignant look that John sent him. “It’s seven o’clock. You know what that means?”

“Bed.” Sam muttered, glaring at the clock as if it were the one who implemented the bedtime. “Please.” He asked, sticking out his lower lip and pouting a little. 

Harold tried his hardest not to melt and remain firm. 

Sam sighed deeply and composed himself. “I leave in da morning.”

“Yes you do.”

“Having so much fun.”

“That is also true.”

“Gotta spend time together.” 

Harold nodded. “Okay, thirty more minutes.”

Sam grinned widely. “Thanks!” With that he ran toward John and jumped on his back, roaring loudly. “I’m a monster!”

“Ahhh, so scary!” John fell down dramatically, allowing Sam to hop around on top of him. “I can’t believe Harold is your favorite.” He muttered, glaring at Harold.

Harold raised an eyebrow. 

“Sam, you need to calm down, bedtime is soon.” Harold said, picking up some of his toys and putting them in his bag before digging out his pajamas. “Let’s get these on before we forget.”

Sam climbed off Harold and nodded, pulling his shirt up over his head. “Kay.”

Harold smiled a little and got Sam changed when he noticed the three year old yawning a little bit. He held back a little coo at the cuteness that was his friends’ child, Harold was sure that Sam knew exactly how adorable he was and used it manipulate people. There was too much Root in him to not use his cuteness for evil.

“He’s definitely the cutest kid I’ve ever seen.” John said, watching as Sam sat down and on the sofa with his iPad in his airplane pajamas. “Root and Shaw make one cute kid, don’t you think?”

“I agree.” Harold nodded. “He’s smart too.”

“Well, that’s a given.” John shrugged. “How long has he been playing on his iPad?”

“I think he’s played for at least three hours.”

“Well, then take the iPad from him.”

“Seriously, John?” 

John gave Harold a serious look. “I am ranked last, Harold. It goes Root and Shaw, you, Lionel, Bear, then me. I’m last after the dog! The dog, Harold!”

“Bear is probably ranked higher than Detective Fusco.” Harold said, watching as Bear hopped onto the sofa and rested his head on Sam’s lap. 

“I’m jealous of the dog and Lionel.” John sighed, standing up. “I can’t take that game away from him. You can’t make me.”

“John.” Harold stared at his friend. 

“I won’t do this to that kid, look how happy he is.”

Harold looked at Sam, who was petting Bear with one hand and poking at a game on his iPad. “He looks like he’ll live.”

“Then you do it.”

“No, I fed him.”

“You just don’t want to stop being his favorite.”

Harold would neither confirm nor deny that.

Sam ended up staying up well past his bedtime, only being sent to bed at nine thirty, then getting an extra half hour of games while he laid in Harold’s guest bed. So, he technically went to bed two and a half hours after bedtime and played games for longer than the allotted time. Harold decided that he’d just leave those little nuggets of information out when he gave Root and Shaw a full report of what happened, he figured that John would do the same. He highly doubted that either woman would let them off the hook if they found out that he and John were no match against Sam’s wide eyes and pout.

“Thank you for coming over to play with us.” Harold said as John got ready to leave. 

“Well, you know that I can’t resist that little guy.” John replied. “Don’t tell Root or Shaw that I said that.”

“I can promise you that I won’t.”

“And we won’t mention Sam managing to manipulate us into a later bedtime or more games?”

“We can never talk about the time we were manipulated like that.”

“And by a child, no less.”

* * *

“Maman!” Sam shrieked when Root and Shaw came by to pick Sam up in the morning, both looking pale and worse for wear. “Mama!”

“Well, hello there.” Shaw smiled a little, scooping Sam into her arms and kissing his forehead. “Did you have a fun sleepover?”

“Ya!” Sam said, nodding vigorously as Root kissed his cheeks. 

“What’d you do?” Shaw asked while Root started to gather up all of Sam’s things.

“He wasn’t too bad for you, was he?” She asked in a low voice as Shaw continued her conversation with Sam.

“No, not at all.” Harold shook his head. “He was a delight, I’m more interested in why you and Miss Shaw look so-”

“Gross?” Root supplied, shouldering Sam’s backpack. “Probably because Sameen insisted that we eat street food, which gave us both food poisoning, and caused us to spend the night together in the bathroom.”

“Oh my.”

“Yeah. Luckily, Sameen got the worst of it, so...”

“I know you’re upset, but surely-”

“The vows said ‘in sickness and in health’ they said nothing about stupidly giving your spouse food poisoning and causing her to vomit in the sinks.”

“Sinks? Plural?”

“Plural.” With that, Root plastered a smile on her face and walked over to her son. “Ready to go home, Sammy?”

“Ya!” Sam nodded, wiping his cheek when Root kissed him again. “Mama, top it.”

“Okay, say goodbye to Harold.” Shaw said, putting Sam down.

“Buh-bye, Harld.” Sam chimed, hugging Harold’s knees before running back over to his mothers.

“Not gonna say goodbye to Bear?” Root asked, watching as Shaw scratched the dog’s ears before opening the door.

“Nah.” Sam shook his head. “Bear’s a dog.”

“Yeah, we know.” Root nodded, smiling at Harold. “Thanks again, Harry.”

“Anytime.” Harold said as the family stepped out of his home.

It would take three weeks before Harold’s pride recovered from being manipulated by a three year old and he was able to look the little boy in the eyes. Though, at least he was confident that Root and Shaw were none the wiser about the entire situation. Harold wasn’t sure if he could survive them knowing the truth.


End file.
